


The Space Between Us

by TheAshla (cannedpeaches)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 18:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12394107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedpeaches/pseuds/TheAshla
Summary: After Malachor, Hera and Kanan finally reconnect.





	The Space Between Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpecSeven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecSeven/gifts).



> For SpecSeven, my partner in Kanera-related, smutty crime.
> 
> Happy new season of _Rebels_! Some [fanmix listening](https://open.spotify.com/user/doublexstrike/playlist/2Ycz7AjbnytmBeyeJVWFYY), if you're interested.

Hera Syndulla could never sleep after an op. Big or small, they awoke something in her, sending adrenaline surging through her body from the tips of her lekku right down to her toes for hours after the action ended. This evening was no different.

 

Pacing in the dark of her cabin, she could still see the starships arrayed over Yarma, the Rebel ships surrounded by TIE fighters, the Star Destroyer looming over everything. She could still see Ezra through the planet’s gassy haze, barely hanging on to what was left of Reklam Station, praying for a rescue that might never come. And she could see Kanan, his face still hidden behind a mask, his mouth still drawn into a tight, thin line, but something in him healed, knitting together among all the broken things that made up the man she loved. She could only hope that this was just the beginning of his recovery from Malachor.

 

The _Ghost_ was almost eerily silent. Even during night cycles, someone was usually awake and making noise--Sabine’s paint hissing in her room, Chopper’s rattling as he puttered around the ship, Ezra and Zeb’s loud arguing over a game of dejarik, and, at one time, Kanan’s harsh breathing and the hum of his lightsaber as he trained in the cargo hold to escape the nightmares that sometimes plagued him. But this cycle, everything was still. She was sure her crew was reeling, even now, from the events of the day. Hera certainly was.

 

She was startled out of her thoughts by a light knock. She crossed the room in a few steps and slapped a hand on the controls to the side of her door. When it whooshed open, her breath caught in her throat.

 

“Kanan,” she murmured.

 

He was dressed for sleep in an undershirt and a soft pair of long pants, but his hair was still tied back, and even Hera could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His mask was off but his eyes were closed, the new scars slashing across them pink and shiny in the dim light coming in from the hallway. Hera bit her lip. He hadn’t come to her cabin since right after Malachor, when he’d still been healing and needed someone to help with the bandages and bacta. He’d always been silent then, grimacing through the pain before thanking her and leaving. Even then, as she tended to his ruined eyes, he’d been closed off to her.

 

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said now.

 

“No, no, come in.” She stood back as he slowly moved into her cabin, a hand up in front of him to feel for any obstacles. Hera was thankful in that moment that she’d cleaned up the tools that had been scattered all over the floor just yesterday.

 

Kanan gingerly eased himself down onto her bunk, and once he was settled, she went to join him. She hesitated for a moment before resting her hand lightly on his knee. For the first time in the past six months, he didn’t flinch away.

 

Hera cleared her throat. “How are you?” she asked.

 

“Tired,” he said, his face directed at her hand on his leg. He took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Grounded,” he added, finally.

 

Hera began to nod, then stopped herself and winced. “Mm,” she said instead. She examined his face. At one time, his eyes would have told her everything--he had never been good at hiding his feelings. They often chased each other, one after another, across his expressive face. But that was no longer true of him. She realized, with a sharp pang, that she no longer knew how to read him.

 

As she fought down the panic that suddenly clutched at her lungs, Kanan turned his face toward her. “Don’t,” he said.

 

“Don’t what?” She silently cursed herself as her voice came out breathier and higher-pitched than normal.

 

Kanan didn’t say anything for another long moment, his brows drawn together in concentration. “Hera, I owe you an apology.”

 

Hera froze, waiting for him to continue.

 

He shook his head. Slowly, he moved his hand to cover hers, and when he did, she closed her eyes, savoring the rough warmth of his palm.

 

“After Malachor, I shut everyone out,” Kanan said, his voice barely audible. “I shut Ezra out. I shut _you_ out. You, who wanted to be there when I needed you. Just like you always have. I’m so sorry, Hera.”

 

She turned her hand over on his knee and interlaced their fingers, squeezing.

 

“I know, luv,” she said. She was proud that her voice cracked only a little. With her free hand, she reached up for his face, hesitating just before her fingers touched his cheek.

 

But Kanan closed the gap, leaning into her touch and sighing. She ran her thumb over his cheekbone before tracing her fingers over his brow, the bearded line of his jaw, his lips. When she reached his chin, he gently took her wrist in his, and moved her hand up, up--

 

\--and settled her fingertips gently over his scarred eyes. Hera gasped, small in her throat, as she felt the smooth new skin. A sob clawed at her insides, but she held steady, skimming her hands from one eye to the other. The bacta had worked miracles on most of the structures of his eyes--he still had eyeballs and eyelids, after all--but other things were gone. The tiny lines at the outer corners, gained from so much laughing. The deep blue-green of his irises, still her favorite color in the galaxy. As she touched him, though, she realized that something else was missing.

 

He no longer had eyelashes.

 

She had loved them, especially when they’d been younger and she was completely new to human physiology. She’d never told him, but she delighted in the way his thick lashes tickled her cheek when he dove in for a quick kiss. She had loved the way they felt against her lekku when he was wrapped around her in bed at night, his face pressed to her head. The memories washed over her, wave after wave, and without warning, the sob escaped her. Even as she pressed her hand to her mouth, more threatened to spill out.

 

When had Kanan become a stranger to her?

 

He responded by wrapping his arms around her, pulling her almost onto his lap, and rocking her. As always, he knew her thoughts:

 

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered. “It’s mine.”

 

“Kanan--” she gasped.

 

“You did everything you could,” he said, running a soothing hand over her lekku. “To keep this family together without me. To keep _me_ together.” He paused, and when he spoke again, she thought she could hear the slightest smile in his voice. “And of course, you were right about Ezra. I have to talk to him.”

 

She choked out a laugh at that, wiping her eyes.

 

“I love you, you know.” He sounded almost shy, and that made Hera want to throttle him. Her sudden frustration sat like a knot in her chest. What did he think, that she was going to give up on him just like that, after all these years? There was only one thing she wouldn’t tolerate.

 

She took his face in her hands and glared at him. “I love you, too,” she said fiercely. “And I need you. We all need you. Here. Now. Not wherever you went in your mind after Malachor. Let us help you, Kanan. Because we still want you.” She licked her lips. “ _I_ still want you.”

 

Her hands trembled as he opened his milky eyes. She shivered; even if he couldn’t see her, she knew that he could look straight through to her heart. He’d always been able to do that.

 

Wordlessly, he wiped the tears from her cheeks, his calloused hands gentle on her face. And then put his other hand on the back of her neck and drew her closer to him. When their lips met, it was all Hera could do to keep from crying again.

 

The kiss was chaste, and Kanan wouldn’t abandon his hesitancy until Hera fisted her hands in the front of his shirt and bit him, perhaps a little too hard, along the strong line of his jaw.

 

After that, it was as easy as falling.

 

In the morning, Hera would laugh at herself, at them, for being so afraid of what this moment might be like when really, the more frightening thought was that it might not have happened at all.

 

Kanan took her lower lip between his teeth as she tangled one hand in his hair, pulling the tie out and sighing a little as it fell against her face. She had missed that feeling, missed being surrounded by the smell of him--leather and sweat and dust, and underneath all that, something earthy and comforting that she only associated with him.

 

Kanan moved his lips to her neck as he started on all the buckles and snaps that held her flight suit together. She moved to help him, but he swatted her away, a smile on his lips as he mouthed at her skin, his hands moving purely by muscle memory. The thought of it made Hera shiver.

 

As he got the top of her suit undone, she put her hands under his shirt, making him jump.

 

“Cold!” he accused, but there was a laugh behind it. He reached down to pull his own shirt over his head as Hera stood to shimmy the rest of the way out of her suit. Then she straddled him, running her hands lightly over his back, his shoulders, his chest, trying to warm up. Kanan only smirked as he took her hands in his hot ones.

 

He bent to grab the tip of t’chun, which had fallen forward over her shoulder, between his lips, swirling his tongue around the tip. Hera moaned in earnest, her hips stuttering against his lap, his hard cock twitching against her. Kanan took more of the lek into his mouth, the end of it finally hitting the back of his throat as Hera panted. His other hand stroked t’chin from base to tip, and he rolled the end of it in his fingers in time with the bobbing movements of his mouth.

 

“Kanan,” Hera gasped. As he pulled back, Hera noticed how tightly she had been gripping his shoulders, enough to leave red marks on his skin.

 

She was still reeling when he said, his lips next to her earcone, “Hang on tight, Captain,” and scooped her up in his arms before depositing her on her bunk with practiced ease. Hera yelped as she hit the hard mattress, partly shaken from her fog of desire, but then Kanan was shucking his pants and underwear, and Hera was fumbling with her bra and panties, and Kanan was kneeling between her legs, Kanan was leaning over her body and bracing himself with his elbows, Kanan was pressing his mouth to hers again.  _Kanan_. He smiled at her fondly, and for a moment, Hera missed seeing the love come through his eyes when he looked at her like that. But she held his milky gaze as slowly, slowly, his palms grazed her forehead, her lekku, her eyes, her nose, her cheekbones, her lips. He moved his hands along her body, quiet and patient, his brows slightly drawn together as if in concentration. His touch was a whisper on her neck, restrained greed on her breasts and hard nipples, softer again over her abdomen, down her thighs, her calves, her ankles, her feet. He painted fire along her nerves as he went. Hera arched into his touch, her mind becoming cloudy again, so much so that she almost didn’t catch him speaking.

 

“So beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself.

 

“Everything still in the right place?” she asked playfully.

 

Kanan only gave her a sad little smile.

 

Hera blinked, trying to focus. “What is it, luv?”

 

He shook his head, but he said, seemingly in spite of himself, “I miss seeing you.”

 

Hera would _not_ cry again, she _wouldn’t_. “Come here,” she said, reaching for his hands and pulling his body over hers again. “I’m right here,” she said, combing her fingers through his hair. “I’m still here.”

 

“I know.” And with renewed energy, he pressed his face into the valley between her breasts, the hair of his new, full beard scratching pleasantly along the thin skin there. She arched into him again, licking her lips as he moved lower, lower--

 

When his wet lips finally met hers, she moaned, pressing herself against his face. She felt him grin against her as he got to work, his tongue working its magic over her clit. Her t’cherrae, the smaller tails that usually interlocked themselves over her entrance, two on each side, were already fat and loose. Hera bucked as Kanan sucked on each one before easily sliding two fingers into her. He set a relentless pace, pumping his fingers into her burning heat even as his mouth moved back over her clit.

 

Hera felt the thundercloud gathering inside her, but even she wasn’t prepared for the storm that broke over her, wave after wave, sending electricity through every part of her body. She cried out, the muscles in her legs cramping as she bore down on Kanan’s face and he licked into her. She wouldn’t have been surprised if sparks had shot out of her fingers and toes, the ends of her lekku.

 

Kanan sat up as her orgasm subsided. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and grinned wolfishly, which only sent another jolt through Hera’s body.

 

“Kanan,” she gasped. “Kanan, please. I need you.”

 

Kanan lifted her legs straight up and rested her ankles on his shoulders. “That an order, Captain?” He licked up her insole, and Hera almost sobbed. She thumped one heel against his bicep and he laughed out loud. Oh, how she had missed that sound. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

He entered her slowly, mindful of how they were positioned--and of how, at this angle, he could stroke every part of her cunt with his cock. Hera whined high in the back of her throat, pleasure flowing so fast through her body that she was shaking.

 

“Alright?” Kanan asked as he bottomed out.

 

“Yes,” Hera said, her voice choked. “Fuck, Kanan, _yes_.”

 

Without further preamble, he began to move. With every thrust, he pulled out almost all the way, sliding his cock along her t’cherrae, and as he entered her, he hit that bundle of nerves that made pure heat rocket up her spine. Now he was the one who was wordless. He smothered his moans by pressing his lips against her ankle, even as Hera thrashed below him, unable to stop the noises she made.

 

“Come here,” she finally gasped. She held her hands out to him again, forgetting that he couldn’t see. But somehow he knew; he rearranged her legs, hitching her ankles behind his back as he shifted, his long torso sliding against her feverish skin. When he kissed her, she could taste herself on his tongue, the smell of her caught in his beard. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he set a relentless pace. His pelvis ground into her clit with every stroke, wringing another orgasm from her. She bit down on his shoulder as she came, and a moment later, she felt him emptying himself into her.

 

Breathing hard, they separated, Kanan rolling onto his back next to her. For long moments, they lay there, listening to the sounds of their harsh breathing. Finally, Kanan took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers. He pulled it up to his mouth, fervently kissing her knuckles before resting both on his chest.

 

“I love you,” he said.

 

Hera smiled. “I know.” She squeezed his hand. “Are you staying?”

 

“I don’t think I’m moving for another standard week.”

 

Hera laughed and shifted closer, resting her head on his chest. _And why not?_ she thought sleepily. They had a lot of time to make up for, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I'm not sure I know how to write smut -- check out all that lead-up! Oh well. :)
> 
> Yes, I did spend a solid amount of time thinking about, inventing, and naming Twi'lek female anatomy. Please don't @ me about this.
> 
> However, please DO at me about any and all of the _Star Wars_ novels! I'm the co-host of [Book Wars Pod](http://www.bookwarspod.com). Come join us!


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